


The Eye, The Star, and The Portal

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Lovecraftian Monster(s), M/M, Monster Babies, Mpreg, Pining Sam Winchester, Season/Series 13, Soul Bond, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: The aftermath of Dean’s near-miss at being possessed by Glythur to become Yokoth’s mate turns into something neither brother had ever imagined possible. The legacies from the Men of Letters’ Rhode Island chapter house, Marco and Ophelia, are called upon to clean up the mess that their great-grandfather left behind.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 132
Collections: Supernatural Eldritch Bang





	The Eye, The Star, and The Portal

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: M-preg and a bit of gore.
> 
> Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Set after episode 13.17 “The Thing”. Written for the 2020 spn-eldritchbang. Thank you to kirathehyrulian for the fabulous art, nobody does Dean or tentacles like you!

****

**Please go check out the amazing Art Master Post here:** [kirathehyrulian](https://kirathehyrulian.tumblr.com/post/633383681897250816/spn-eldritch-bang-2020-the-eye-the-star-and)

~()0O0()~

The first hour of their drive back home from Portsmouth, Sam couldn’t let go of something Marco had said about Yokoth. As the bleakness of the early spring Rhode Island landscape sped by outside the passenger window, his mind kept playing the man’s intense words on repeat: “If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding.”

That comment alone was enough to make Sam want to scream remembering the tentacles and how close they’d come to snatching Dean away into another universe. It made him start to question exactly how long Yokoth really had Dean all to herself? It had seemed like forever to Sam (or at least a very long time) before he’d gotten to where Dean had been chained to that filthy black marble altar. But Sam was guessing his grasp of time was probably off due to the knock-out drugs that had been in his kale salad.

_If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding_

Yokoth had most definitely fed on all the poor cultists, but then she’d left. She’d probably had a surge of energy after one hundred years of being starved and tied up. That meant that she’d probably—he couldn’t go there, couldn’t quite make himself think it. Sam found that he couldn’t even imagine saying it out loud, not even to ask Dean if he knew the answer.

_If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding_

Sam glanced over at Dean, blithely driving along like he hadn’t just almost been the breeding host for some cosmic entity from yet another universe. Dean had been mere seconds away from becoming Yokoth’s mate, Glythur. Sam’s heart raced at the thought that he had almost lost Dean—again, and this time to something nearly inconceivable in its scale.

_If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding_

Yokoth had fed, so then what? What would come next, she would want to breed, right? The logical next step would be—he had to go there and think it. What if Yokoth had…bred with Dean as part of the whole portal opening ritual?

Sam knew that he hadn’t been thinking straight or clearly back there in the chapter house, so he hadn’t asked Marco or Ophelia what they knew. He’d been so caught up in the flood of relief at seeing Dean alive that nothing else had mattered in that moment. Nothing else mattered still. Sam continued to examine him, his brother who had survived something inconceivable just a few hours ago.

Sam watched as Dean finally noticed him looking. Dean’s whole face changed, there was a slight raise to the curve of his lip, he shrugged a little like Sam’s gaze actually weighed something. It was almost more than Sam could bear, he’d almost lost him again.

Dean looked over and met Sam’s gaze briefly, his forehead crinkling with worry. “You okay, Sammy?”

“Just thinking, that I’m glad you didn’t get all tentacled up into another universe,” Sam said, not elaborating on all that likely entailed.

_If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding_

Dean mock-shuddered at the thought, flashing a silly grin across the car, his eyes hopeful, no doubt that Sam would accept it and drop the subject. “Me too, that’s for damn sure.”

“Ophelia and Marco were pretty cool, weren’t they? I was thinking about how we should try to stay in touch with them. What do you think?” Sam asked, trying to do just that, drop the subject and never bring it up again.

“Well, I guess we should, I mean they’re legacies, just like us. No, they had even more Men of Letters training than us, especially on this whole cosmic gods and alternate universes business. It feels like we’re gonna need them on speed dial for a while here,” Dean said.

“They’ll be up for it, think about all the time they’ll have on their hands now. No care and non-feeding of the monster in the basement and all,” Sam said.

“What a weird family gig that had to be, huh?” Dean asked.

“I think I like our family business a lot better, there’s more variation in the work,” Sam said, “instead of just hanging around one place your whole life.”

“Hard to imagine doing that, I think I would have really lost my mind,” Dean said.

Their conversation petered out then, like they usually did on long drives like this one was going to be. It was rare that they talked the whole time they were in the car. And usually there tended to be more caring and sharing late at night. There was something about driving past that midnight hour that got Dean into the headspace where he could open up enough to be a little more free with his feelings.

It didn’t mean that Sam couldn’t look at him now though, the setting sun’s warmth coasting over Dean’s profile, lighting up the tips of his long lashes. It was enough to make him sigh.

“You’re sighing again, you really okay?” Dean asked with the familiar big-brother’s worried tone.

“Yeah, I’m just…uh, enjoying the sunset,” Sam said, gesturing at the horizon where the entire sky full of towering clouds were colored in intense shades of the setting sun.

“It’s pretty gorgeous,” Dean said, turning slightly to look out at the sky, but still looking mainly at Sam.

“That’s for sure,” Sam said, not looking at the sunset any longer. Dean was the only thing he could see these days, the only sight that truly came into focus, the only person that it mattered that he see.

After thinking about it for another hour or so, considering all the angles on how to even bring up such a question Sam realized that he just plain didn’t know how to ask Dean. He didn’t want to interrupt his brother’s apparently good mood. And there wasn’t much of a solution that Sam could even offer at this point. It reminded him too much of being soulless and teasing Dean about servicing Oberon, king of the fairies.

_If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding_

Back there in Rhode Island, just a few hours ago in the basement of the Men of Letters’ chapter house, Capitulum Seven, Dean hadn’t talked much about the gory details. Not even after getting unchained from the altar and cleaned up from the tentacle residue and all that. There just hadn’t been enough time. And Marco and Ophelia had been there. But if Sam knew anything in this world, he knew that he knew his brother, and something was not right. He sighed to himself, hopefully softly enough this time that Dean couldn’t hear it over the Metallica blasting through the speakers.

~()0O0()~

Once they got back home to the bunker, Sam noticed within a few days that Dean was sleeping a whole lot more than he usually did, and he had stopped drinking almost entirely which was the strangest thing of all. Neither of them brought up traveling to the other _other_ world to try and save their mother and Jack, which was maybe even a little more weird. Sam wished he was still sleeping in the same room with Dean. After their lifetime of sharing motel rooms, having separate rooms, heck, separate hallways in the bunker meant he didn’t know for sure if Dean was having nightmares or not. Given the dark circles under Dean’s eyes and his general twitchiness, Sam was guessing the answer was yes, but he couldn’t ask, couldn’t put the strain of having that conversation on Dean after all that had gone wrong lately.

_If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding_

That remark still resonated a week later, and Sam had started researching, while Dean was sleeping the days and nights away. The Men of Letters had a lot of information on H.P. Lovecraft’s activities that was downright fascinating. Sam found the Letters’ dry reports much easier to read than Lovecraft’s overwrought and thoroughly racist writings. There was even an interview with Eleanor Visyak which mentioned the portal to Purgatory opened in 1937 that she had slipped through. Sam almost showed it to Dean, but didn’t want to bring up the subject when his brother was still recovering.

~()0O0()~

That first night after they got home, Dean thought he was going to be fine, just fine. It had been scary, sure and like something out of a grade-B horror movie, but it was over. He honestly didn’t want to think about it too much. He showered for a long time, scrubbing at imagined remnants of the sticky tentacle guck. The smell of it assaulted him in the steam of the shower, even though there wasn’t any left to be scrubbed away. It was like it had invaded his skin somehow and the heat of the shower was bringing it out. Salty and fetid, rotting seaweed with a hint of dead sea creature that had dried on some unimaginable shore.

He shut off the hot water and leaned his head into the tile as the cold water washed the smell away. Instead of the horrible smell he was assaulted with echoes of Yokoth’s sweet voice as she’d said all those things about how he was hers and only hers forever. It had been so much worse than Amara’s claim on him. A deep dread in the pit of his stomach turned over, what if she’d been right?

Every night he dreamed, long and hard and horrifying. Images of himself heavily pregnant with Yokoth’s world-killing babies. Each night Yokoth murmured to him ever so sweetly about how he was so much better than Glythur and that his babies would be stronger than Glythur’s had been, how much more unstoppable, even more fierce than Glythur’s ever were. Her voice seemed to take him over and remove his ability to function or be himself. Even in the dreams he thought that was the worst part of the whole thing.

In these dreams Yokoth kept stroking Dean with her tentacles to keep him calm and suffused with this prickling almost pleasure. The almost pleasure was maddening, but he could take it in the dream. But the calmness wasn’t as easy to take, even in a dream it was very hard to be calm when you’d been bred against your will. The tentacles would wrap around him from all angles and sides, holding him completely immobile while they endlessly stroked at his skin. The hardest thing to bear was the pleasure when the tentacles would inevitably find their way to suckle at his nipples. Sometimes one at a time, other times both at once. The sheer erotic thrill of it would make him ill, even inside of the dream.

But always, the tentacles would surround his belly and massage at the stretching skin. Sometimes he could see dark shapes of tentacles inside there through that barrier, the only thing that was keeping them out of his world, was his own body. He felt so helpless in the dreams, because of how completely his mind and body would be overtaken, but it was her voice, Yokoth’s otherworldly sibilant voice crooning at him that would keep his resolve firm. He would use whatever means necessary to keep these monsters from coming through into his world.

Every single time he woke up from one of these dreams, he found he was holding the lower part of his belly. One hand curved around the small solid pooch that definitely didn’t used to be there. He didn’t know how to ask Sam for help with this. He thought Sam probably knew, or at least suspected that something was wrong. Dean imagined his brother trying to help, but what were they going to do? Call up Dr. Robert and have him perform a supernatural abortion for Dean’s dream monster babies from another universe? It seemed so ridiculous he couldn’t even bring himself to say it out loud.

~()0O0()~

Eventually there came a night when Dean’s screams were loud and prolonged enough to reach Sam’s ears. He ran at full speed through the hallway that separated their rooms, not hesitating or stopping to knock on Dean’s door. His brother was on the bed writhing and screaming his lungs out.

“No! I don’t want this!” Dean screamed, clutching and clawing at his lower belly. His fingernails had scratched through his own skin leaving trails of blood.

Sam couldn’t wake him up no matter how hard he tried, he held Dean’s wrists so that he’d stop harming his own body, but that seemed to make him scream and thrash even more.

He was desperate to help, and the only thing he could think of was to hold Dean like he’d held Sam when he was having nightmares as a small boy. The moment Sam laid down half on top of Dean, pinning him to the bed with his full body weight, Dean stopped screaming. His brother’s body relaxed and he thankfully fell back into a deep sleep.

Sam ended up holding Dean the rest of the night, trying his best to stay awake in case he needed to soothe his panicked brother. He managed to finally relax and fell asleep himself, just in time to get a few more hours of sleep.

Dean woke him up again because he was talking, but not clearly. His body was rigid like he was fighting or ready to fight. Sam could make out Dean’s mumbles, it was something about _not wanting this, that it wasn’t right, he didn’t have the equipment._ Hearing all that only fed into Sam’s worries, almost confirming them without having to ask Dean outright. When Dean jerked up out of bed and vomited in the trashcan, that pretty much settled things. He tried to get Dean to wash his mouth out, but it was like his brother was sleep walking (sleep vomiting?) and it wasn’t possible.

~()0O0()~

Dean woke up early in the morning with Sam wrapped around him from behind. He realized he finally felt rested after all those sleepless nights. He must have had a hell of a nightmare, because this wasn’t at all like Sam. Dean felt warm and safe and almost normal even though his gigantor of a brother was holding onto him like the world’s most enormous koala. Before he had a chance to consider how utterly perfect it felt to have Sam holding him, he fell asleep.

Later that morning Dean woke up again, but this time he was alone in his bed. The taste in his mouth was disgusting, like something had died in there. Had he actually barfed at some point? That hadn’t been a dream? He moved and found that his shirt was stuck to his belly, there was dried blood soaked through. He could feel something deep in his belly, something moving, it was a small brushing tickle against his insides, like he’d swallowed tadpoles. Before he could think about it too much more or freak himself out much further, Sam appeared in his doorway with a tray. He’d brought Dean some herbal tea and toast.

“Thought you could use something after last night,” Sam said, setting the tray next to Dean on the bed. He sat in the desk chair and seemed to examine Dean, that all-too-familiar worried look on his face.

“What happened?” Dean asked, sipping the tea and then lightly buttering the dry toast. He decided to skip adding the jam that Sam had added to the tray. It seemed like too much for his stomach to handle without getting ill again. Had he dreamed Sam being in bed with him when he’d woken up earlier?

“You…uh, you were screaming last night, and I couldn’t wake you up. You were hurting yourself pretty badly and the only thing that worked was holding you,” Sam said, blushing a little which Dean was surprised to find was all kinds of adorable.

“Thanks…uh, for helping me,” Dean said, “I’m not sure what that was all about last night. I’ve been having bad dreams every night since we got back.”

“I figured, it was a bad scene back in Portsmouth from what little I saw of it myself,” Sam said.

“That’s for damn sure,” Dean agreed, finishing the tea.

“I know I missed a lot though, because I came in towards the end. I really don’t know what happened and since we didn’t talk about it too much…” Sam trailed off like he wasn’t sure what to say next.

“I wasn’t up for describing the gory details, but I guess I might have to spill given what happened last night,” Dean said. “Did I say or do anything that stood out?”

“Once I got you calmed down, you started talking in your sleep. It was something about not wanting this, that it wasn’t right, you didn’t have the right equipment, and then you got up and barfed in the trash can.”

“That’s why my mouth tasted like ass this morning, I was wondering,” Dean said.

“Any idea what you were talking about?” Sam asked.

“Some, yeah,” Dean said, grimacing at the thought he couldn’t possibly say out loud.

“Is it something to do with Yokoth trying to mate with you as Glythur?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Dean said, eyes blazing with the fierce need for Sam to drop the subject.

Sam’s eyes widened when he took notice of Dean’s reaction and he gathered up the tray and turned towards the door. Dean couldn’t help noticing how Sam took up most of the space, how were his shoulders so impossibly wide and strong?

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, knowing he sounded sappy and probably too emotional.

Sam turned to look back at him, eyes still wide, but now with something soft and tender instead of worried or pitying. And that was just what Dean needed, it wasn’t pity Sam was sending his way, it was something else. “I’ve got your back on this, Dean, whatever it takes.”

~()0O0()~

As soon as he was alone in the kitchen, Sam texted both Marco and Ophelia to see if they might know how to test Dean to see if he was actually carrying impossible monster babies.

Sam: I keep thinking about something you said when we were there

Marco: What’s that? I know I talk a lot of shit

Sam: We were talking about Yokoth and you said: If she’s not feeding, she’s breeding

Marco: So Dean’s not feeling too good, huh?

Sam: Nope, you guys got any idea what I can do to help him?

Marco: …. 

The three dots beeped and booped silently and didn’t turn into helpful advice, they did nothing until they disappeared. Sam’s heart sank, maybe they weren’t going to offer their help. His phone rang before he had a chance to put away the dishes from Dean’s tray. It was both of them calling from Ophelia’s phone.

“Hey, Sam, you’re on speaker,” Ophelia said.

“Hey, hi there, Ophelia and Marco, thanks for uh…getting back to me so quickly,” Sam said, sinking into a chair at the table. He pulled over his notes and a pen.

“Yeah, we were pretty sure you’d be calling,” Marco said.

Based on their non-reaction reactions this told Sam that they had suspected this monster baby on board thing was a possibility.

“We’ve already gone ahead and gathered the ingredients for a spell to test and then banish Yokoth’s offspring,” Marco said.

Sam didn’t know how to respond to that, except with a heartfelt, “Thank you, that’s awesome. Should we come back up there, I mean…would it work better there, you know, where it all happened?”

“My guess is that it’s a bit safer to be further from their entry point into our world, and your bunker sounded pretty safe and isolated just in case,” Marco said.

“It’ll be okay, Sam, we’re all packed up and ready to come to you,” Ophelia said.

“Is there anything I can do while we’re waiting for you guys?” Sam asked, trying not to be too hopeful.

“It’s going to take us a couple days to get there, here’s what you need to do to keep Dean safe, you ready to write this down?”

Marco described a soul binding spell that Sam could perform to keep Yokoth’s hold from affecting Dean’s conscious mind. The spell would mostly work as a distraction to keep her occupied. Sam did his best to not worry about hiding his worry from Dean, because if the distraction worked, then he wouldn’t be noticing either. Marco cautioned that part of the spell involved Dean being bound to someone to ground him here to the physical plane.

“Who do you think would work better, someone he knows, or a random person?” Sam interrupted, needing to get clarity on the issue.

“Definitely a person he knows well, because the spell might make Dean…uh, needy,” Marco said.

“Needy in what way exactly?” Sam asked.

“Like he’ll need more physical touch, to feel that you’re there with him. His senses are going to be heightened and distracted by the new connection he’ll feel because of the spell,” Ophelia said.

“Got it, I guess we’ll just have to deal,” Sam said. If the spell caused Dean to cling to him, almost 24/7, Sam decided he’d do just that, deal with it. He had a lifetime of stuffing down the bottomless need for his brother, he was an expert at it by now.

“Also, make sure that you have the Seal of Solomon out and ready for us, in case we have to act quickly when we arrive. I don’t want to have to go hunting through all your storerooms for it,” Marco said.

“Is there like a time limit on this? I mean, are we talking about an emergency imminent situation here?” Sam asked.

“We’re not exactly clear on the time part of things, they are cosmic gods after all, their concept of time is probably not even close to ours, much less their gestation cycle,” Ophelia said. “So, in our minds, it’s best to hurry up and get it done.”

“Got it, we’ll be ready for you,” Sam said.

“See you soon, Sam, stay safe,” Ophelia said.

Sam ended the call without making any useless promises about staying safe. He was going to do whatever it took to save Dean, just like he’d promised his brother earlier. Sam read over the list of spell ingredients and memorized the phrases he would need to speak. He thought about when would be the best time to do this, while Dean was asleep or awake, should he talk to him about it first, or just do it so that Yokoth didn’t get a heads up on what was happening? He made himself another pot of coffee and sat down to sketch out a game plan at the table.

Before he could decide, Dean showed up, hovering in the kitchen doorway.

“This coffee fresh?” Dean asked, fumbling with the carafe and a mug.

“Yeah, just made it,” Sam said. “You feeling any better?” He gathered up the papers he’d been writing on and stowed them in a zip-up notebook. It seemed like a better idea not to discuss any of this with Dean right away and if he saw what Sam had been writing, there would be questions.

Dean made a noncommittal sort of growl that wasn’t really an answer. He was like this a lot of times in the morning before he’d had coffee. Sam watched as he settled himself at the table, one hand always holding the lower part of his belly, moving in a small circle like he was trying to soothe a stomach ache.

“Your stomach bothering you?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, a little I guess,” Dean said, not elaborating any further and closing his eyes as he gulped down his coffee.

“Dean, do you remember Eleanor Visyak?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, Bobby’s buddy who turned out to be a Purgatory monster, what about her?” Dean asked, hand still rubbing on his lower belly.

“I was thinking about what she did, how she spent her life making sure a portal never got opened up again, and that was just one to Purgatory, not some other dimension or world like these gods are from. And what did it get her?”

“Crowley tortured her, Cas too, and then Cas killed her. She died in a filthy alley,” Dean said in a monotone.

“She took over the body of a young woman when she came over through the portal to Purgatory that Lovecraft opened, and spent her life aging like any normal human. And that whole time she was studying all the creatures of Eve, like the dragons and making sure another portal didn’t get opened up. She lived a human lifetime here,” Sam said.

“Apparently some of which she spent screwing around with Bobby,” Dean added with a tired smile.

Sam glanced at his brother’s hand, trying not to worry to see it still moving slowly over Dean's belly. The curve of the belly pooch seemed bigger than it had when they’d been in bed, probably because Dean was sitting instead of laying down. That’s what it had to be…right?

“Uh..let’s not focus on that for the moment, I’m bringing Eleanor up because I wonder if that’s what Yokoth is after. Does she want to be here as a human? Because it would be something different, like an experience she wants to have, or does she need a human host because she can’t be here in this world and affect anything if she’s non-corporeal?”

“I didn’t have a chance to ask her questions like that,” Dean said, back to a non-expressive monotone.

“I’m just wondering what her motivation would be, and what her physical limitations are here in our world, it might help me figure out how to help.”

“I think she just wants to devour everything here, because she’s eaten everything worth eating in her universe,” Dean said.

“You’re right, it’s probably just that simple, it makes sense since, according to the lore, she’s called the Star of Madness, Ravager of Galaxies, and Mother of Faceless Hordes,” Sam said.

“Star of Madness is fucking right,” Dean said with a grimace.

“Why?” Sam asked, in a voice gone quiet with worry.

“It was…when I was on that altar, and he was coming down, and she was holding me with her power or whatever, making me take him inside of myself, there was this—I’m not sure how to describe it, but it felt and tasted like madness. True madness, no thought, no plan, no conscious objective besides the impulse to feed forever.”

“When Glythur touched you, what happened?” Sam asked, hoping that Dean would actually answer.

“He…It, whatever, we were one for a second and I felt a jolt of some power go through me, it wasn’t electrical or like angel grace, it was something else. But the jolt went out past my body and then came back in and it settled inside me here,” Dean indicated his lower belly, which was definitely bigger now that Sam was really looking at it.

“Any idea what’s happening in there?” Sam asked, staring at Dean’s belly.

“I can’t…” Dean started, cutting himself off abruptly.

“Like I said before, I’ve got your back, Dean, whatever it takes,” Sam said, laying his hand over Dean’s, the one that wasn’t massaging his growing belly.

Dean stared at their hands on the table and turned his own over, sliding the skin of their palms together with a delicious drag that gave Sam thoughts that truly didn’t go with the moment. Dean’s hand ended up palm side up against Sam’s, and he slowly laced their fingers together, squeezing briefly.

Dean looked up at him, eyes heavy lidded and full of something Sam couldn’t define, “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam couldn’t answer, he just tried to show it on his face, that he meant his words with all his heart. Dean let go and stood up slowly, hand still on his belly, still moving in that slow circle.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, head back to bed for a while,” Dean said.

“I’ll come check on you in a bit,” Sam said.

Dean waved the other hand that wasn’t on his belly as he walked through the kitchen doorway to head towards the bathroom. Sam watched as Dean’s unoccupied hand found its way to his lower back massaging the muscles vigorously. All the signs were there, Dean had practically confirmed it just now, there was no more delay, Sam had to get the binding spell done so that they could both hold on until Marco and Ophelia arrived.

~()0O0()~

The spell that he’d written down from Marco’s instructions wasn’t too complicated and Sam was glad that he had everything on hand for once. It wasn’t the time to be driving around looking for some obscure but crucial spell ingredient. Sam checked in on Dean to make sure he was still sleeping. Dean was sleeping on his back, hand on his lower belly, moving even in his sleep.

“I hope you can forgive me, Dean,” Sam whispered, mostly to himself. He knew it was probably going too far, but he had to save Dean, and their world too. Just like always.

He locked the door to his room and set everything up on his desk, the brass bowl gleamed in the low light from the desk lamp. He undressed and washed himself with the purified water, saying the blessing three times as Marco had instructed. Sam threw a robe on as his skin dried, because it was always a little too cold in the bunker. He lit a match and set fire to a small branch of rosemary and tossed it into the bowl. The words of the spell that he’d memorized rolled off his tongue like so much sweet honey.

As the last of the ingredients caught fire in the bowl, he could feel the spell take hold of something deep inside him. It was in that place Cas had reached to check on his soul. He couldn’t see it with his eyes, but he could feel it as a bundle of strings flowed out from himself and undulated down the hall, searching for his brother. He felt it when the strings reached Dean, when they latched onto his soul, binding and tying them together even more thoroughly than they had been before. Soulmates, soul-bound, what next?

He stumbled a little as he felt Dean resist, felt some of the strings begin to untie themselves, but he concentrated and pushed them forward, connecting them as deeply as possible inside Dean. There was no more resistance and it all felt normal and fine after that. The strings were there, yes, but that felt right to Sam. He wondered whether Dean would notice in the state he was in today. A noise of pain hit him then, but he didn’t hear it, he felt it, somehow transmitted through the strings that bound them. He ran through the halls towards Dean’s room, and found Dean thrashing his way through another nightmare.

Even though he was only wearing a robe, Sam launched himself onto the bed, holding Dean down in the same way he had before. Pinning Dean with most of his body worked again and this time Dean woke up. His eyes cleared from the terror and as soon as he saw Sam he relaxed and almost smiled.

  
“Sammy?”

“It’s okay now, just go back to sleep, Dean,” Sam said, releasing his hold on Dean’s wrists.

Dean closed his eyes and relaxed into the curve of Sam’s body. There wasn’t much else for Sam to do, so he stayed, and tried to get some rest too. Dean woke up and threw up again in the trashcan, but he climbed right back into his bed, wriggling his way back under Sam.

When Sam woke up, he realized the robe he’d been wearing was most of the way off. his bare skin was against Dean’s in so many places he thought he’d burn up from the sheer pleasure of it.

“Don’t put it back on, I feel better when it’s your skin on mine. It’s like it’s helping me ignore her,” Dean said.

Sam looked down at him, trying not to overreact, but this was unexpected. It was a whole lot more than what Marco had warned him about. He smiled at Dean’s closed eyes, his relaxed face and just barely resisted brushing his lips against Dean’s. There was a big sigh that Dean released, his chest expanding and then deflating against Sam’s, it was then that Sam could feel his heartbeat. He let himself enjoy it, feeling Dean’s heart beating strong and sure against his own. This was his brother, here in his arms, just the way he’d always wanted, but he’d had to do a spell to get him here. It wasn’t right for him to enjoy it, no matter how much Dean said he needed the contact. It was all because of the spell, it wasn’t real. Sam was going to have think about dead kittens and the remnants of ghoul dinners to get his mind off of how good it felt.

Dean slept in his arms, while Sam thought about what was to come. This might be it, if Marco and Ophelia weren’t able to get the monster babies taken care of, he might lose Dean for good tomorrow. He tried to memorize everything about this, the weight of Dean against him, the warmth of his skin, the way their bodies fit together so perfectly. His hands traced Dean’s bare back, tracing the bumps and ridges of Dean’s many scars. It couldn’t end here and now. Sam wasn’t going to let it end like this. Not without Dean knowing how much he meant to him. Sam whispered promises and confessions into Dean’s unhearing ears for hours, spilling it all into the soul bond connection that they shared, hoping against hope that Dean would finally know.

They had never quantified what it was between them, never acted on it or had a single conversation, but they both knew it was there. Always had been, always would be. With the world-ending stakes back on the table, it seemed like such a small thing in comparison to hold Dean in bed, warm and soft against him, skin to skin as Dean requested to feel him, to feel he was real.

Sam kept nodding off, it was so warm and safe here in Dean’s bed, he let himself sleep, rationalizing that he’d need to be rested up for whatever happened tomorrow. A few times he woke up to Dean staring at him, or Dean’s hands moving over his skin. He tried his best not to let his arousal be too obvious. Sometimes Dean’s would be hard to miss when his hips would thrust and grind against Sam’s. If he let himself come, how would he ever be able to apologize to Dean? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to his brother. The sighs and moans as Dean sleep humped his way to completion against him were maddening. He got up from the bed and warmed up a washcloth in the sink, bringing it back to clean his brother up. Dean thrashed and gritted his teeth, fingernails scratching at his belly again. Sam threw the washcloth across the room and into the sink, settling back on Dean to hold his wrists until the nightmare passed.

“You’re okay, Dean. I’ve got you, come out of it,” Sam said, lips brushing over the soft shell of Dean’s ear.

Dean’s head whipped back and forth, his skull cracking right into Sam’s nose. Sam reared back, holding his nose because of the intense flare of pain. Dean’s hand went right back to his own belly, holding the growing bulge and scratching at the skin. Sam placed his hand over Dean’s and flattened it to fit the new curve of Dean’s belly.

“Dean, you have to stop hurting yourself, please,” Sam said, stroking the side of Dean’s face with his unoccupied hand.

Dean’s hand twitched under his, but then it relaxed along with the rest of him. Sam heard a sigh and looked up to see Dean’s eyes were open and looking at where their hands were joined.

“You holding my hand, Sammy?” Dean asked with a pained chuckle, his head leaning into Sam’s hand against his cheek.

“You were hurting yourself again, scratching at your skin here,” Sam said, releasing his hold on Dean and sitting back.

Dean tried to look, but the curve of his belly was too big now from that angle. “Guess I’m gonna have to take your word on that.”

“I’m going to get some antibiotic for the scratches, don’t go anywhere,” Sam said, standing up from the bed. If he didn’t get out of here, out of this room, away from his needy beautiful mess of a brother on the bed, it was all going to go wrong.

“Thanks for all this, I know it’s shitty and weird,” Dean said.

“Weird yes, shitty no. It’s not a big deal, Dean,” Sam said, not meeting his eyes. He couldn’t because it was the biggest of big deals and they both knew it.

“No, I mean it, Sammy. You didn’t have to do all this, stay with me like this, and I’m just trying to say I appreciate it. That’s all,” Dean said, closing his eyes and seeming to fall right back into a deep sleep.

Sam leaned against the doorjamb and looked at him, nearly naked and beautiful on the bed, even with the nasty red scratches on his belly. “You’re welcome,” Sam said, turning to go get the promised antibiotic.

As he searched through the med kit they kept in the kitchen, he thought about the drink he had to make for both of them. Marco had given him the recipe, it would knock both of them out and make them hopefully sleep through the whole getting rid of the monster babies ritual. He remembered the conversation on the phone..

“We’ll text you when we’re an hour away, that’s when you guys need to drink the whole thing down,” Marco said.

“And it’s going to knock us out completely? Why do I have to take it too?” Sam asked.

“That’s the plan, yeah, you’ll both be out,” Ophelia said. “Pretty sure you don’t want to be awake for what’s going to be happening.”

“You need to take it too, Sam, because at that point you’re going to be soulbound to Dean, and he’ll need you. I’m guessing by then you’ll be his only anchor to this world. So drink the drink, and both of you lay down together somewhere easy for us to work.”

“And both skyclad, right, Marco?” Ophelia asked.

“Right, it’s part of the ceremony, and it’ll make it easier for us to see that you’re both still you,” Marco said.

“You mean there’s a chance one of us is going to turn into one of these gods?” Sam asked.

“We just want to make sure no one has any extra tentacles,” Ophelia said, so matter of factly that they all cracked up.

“I’m glad Dean’s going to be so out of it, he’d never go for this in a million years. But I’ll get it done,” Sam promised.

Sam was spreading the antibiotic cream over the deep furrows in Dean’s skin, and he had to move the waist band of his boxer briefs a little lower. Even though he’d just come half an hour before, he noticed Dean’s arousal. He spread the cream over the soft skin, and admired the neat treasure trail. Sam tried to think about anything but what came after, after the monster babies were dealt with, after Marco and Ophelia left them alone together. What would come then, how would he go back to not having this? Dean’s hips started to move, thrusting up against nothing. Sam finished applying the cream and stepped back from the bed.

It was one thing to let Dean rut against him like he had earlier, but this was—it was too much, too much like exactly what he’d always wanted.

“Sammy, need you,” Dean moaned, his eyes closed and his skinflushed a beautiful pink all down his chest.

Sam took his robe off and laid down next to Dean, not sure how to arrange himself this time as he wasn’t pinning Dean down. Dean’s hands found him and pulled him over so that he was sprawled on top of Dean.

“Need to feel you on me, keeping me here. Don’t want to go with her, be with her, want to be with you, Sammy, just you,” Dean mumbled into Sam’s neck.

Sam shivered at the feeling of Dean’s lips moving against his sensitive skin. He groaned at the feeling of arousal that sped through his body like wildfire. “Dean, I”m here, it’s me. I’ve got you, you’re not going anywhere,” Sam promised, wishing like anything that he could back from what came next.

Dean’s hands were moving over Sam’s back, going lower and lower until they stopped on his ass. He pulled in hard then, so he had Sam where he needed him to thrust against. “Need you, Sammy, only you,” Dean panted into Sam’s neck.

Sam couldn’t help it, he thrust back into Dean, matching his movements and his speed, marveling out how in-sync they were. He tried his best to ignore the squirming movements he felt as Dean’s distended belly pressed against him. “You’ve got me, Dean, always,” Sam said into Dean’s ear.

Dean’s body jerked against him as he came with a groan that sounded like Sam’s name. Sam couldn’t tell because he was coming too. They were both still breathing hard when he felt Dean fall back into a deep sleep underneath him. He rolled off and looked up at the ceiling.

Would it be too much to wish for that Dean wouldn’t remember this? Or would it better somehow if he did? It was too confusing. Sam stumbled out of Dean’s room and into the bathroom, taking a quick shower to wash away the evidence. He wore only a robe in the kitchen as he prepared the knock-out drink in their blender. The sound of a text message coming through interrupted his cycle of thoughts about what had just happened between them, what it meant for their future, or if they even had one.

Ophelia: Almost there, drink up, buddy

Sam: Haha, this stuff looks disgusting, but I’m on it

He set the Seal of Solomon and the brass ceremonial bowl on a library table and headed back down the hall to Dean’s room. First he cleaned Dean up with a warm washcloth, removing his boxers and tossing them into the hamper. He didn’t think it would be fair for Dean to come out of this with a case of the crusties. Plus, Marco and Ophelia would see the evidence while Dean was laying there naked and know what Sam had done. Well, they probably already had guessed that about him.

Sam got Dean sitting up and drinking the concoction. Luckily he was out of enough that he didn’t protest too much, his glazed over eyes told Sam how close they were cutting this. After they’d finished their drinks, Sam helped Dean walk out to the war room, and laid him out on thebig map table. Completely naked as requested, it was hard to ignore how big his belly had grown. It had all happened so fast, Sam felt a rush of cold fear go through him, that this wouldn’t work, that he would fail to save Dean from this horror. His only hope was that he ended up with Dean wherever the mad gods took him.

“Take me too,” Sam whispered to no one.

He let himself look at Dean one last time as he took off his own robe and laid it with Dean’s on a chair. He sat on the table and swung his legs up, arranging himself next to Dean, he wrapped their hands together and closed his eyes, feeling the drink take effect at last. At least the robes weren’t on the floor under the map table, Dean wouldn’t like that, was the last thing that Sam remembered thinking. It all went blank after that.

~()0O0()~

Marco and Ophelia arrived at the bunker in the promised two days to find Sam and Dean entwined on the map table. Both of the brothers had glowing eyes, but they were passed out cold and didn’t even react to having their eyelids pulled up. Dean’s belly was enormous, distended and writhing with what was growing inside. It looked like a lot had happened since the last time they’d communicated with Sam. Neither brother moved or spoke or reacted at all to being touched, it was creepy as hell seeing them with their eyes glowing that sickly purple through their closed eyelids.

“All this, just because our great-grandfather couldn’t fucking get over the horrors of World War I,” Marco said.

“If they’d had some mental health services for the returning soldiers available back then, it might have stopped this from ever happening,” Ophelia said.

“That’s why we’re here doing this instead of running in the opposite direction like any normal person would,” Marco said.

“We would’t though, because we’re legacies to all of this,” Ophelia said, gesturing around the room, “Diego would have probably done the same thing.”

Marco gestured at the tattoo on his forearm, “You’re probably right, guess we’re finally getting a chance to set things right, pay our family debt or something.”

“It’s just like Diego said, right? 'Upon us we shall call forth new gods, Yokoth and her mate Glythur. And they will cleanse this world of hate and bring a new paradise.’ We’re sending his new gods packing for real this time, and hopefully the Winchesters will survive.”

“Yeah, seems like the world kinda needs these guys around, even if they are sort of old for the gig,” Marco said, still looking at his tattoo.

Ophelia wrapped her hand around Marco’s forearm, right over the tattoo, Marco did the same in return, they pressed their foreheads together, both gathering strength from their connection. They opened their eyes at the same moment, and then nodded with firm resolve to get the job done this time, once and for all.

  
Marco and Ophelia found the Seal of Solomon that Sam had left out on one of the library tables for them and prepared to do the ritual that they were taught by their grandfather. Marco held the heavy silver chain of the purple meteoric rock, the focus of so much human effort over all these years. It seemed to glow from within itself, not reflecting light but instead emanating it with the same sickly purple glow as the Winchesters’ eyes.

Before they had even begun the first chant, Sam suddenly sat up, his eyes wide open and blazing with that ethereal purple that they’d seen in Sandy’s eyes back home. “You cannot stop me, I am eternal. I have him, he is mine.” One of Sam’s hands wrapped around Dean’s neck, not choking, just in a possessive gesture.

“Nope, you can’t have him, not all of him, not the part that counts. Dean’s soul already belongs to someone else,” Ophelia said, starting the fire up in the brass bowl.

“He is nothing, just a vessel, just like this one,” Yokoth said, Sam’s hand waving at the impressive length of Sam’s naked body.

“Listen, these men are not vessels, they are people, and they’re not for you to take over and use as you please,” Ophelia said.

“You’re not even really here, are you, Yokoth?” Marco asked. “You can do this only because your offspring are inside our friend.”

“My my, my, oh how the tiniest ants can only learn if they but try,” Yokoth murmured with a sibilance that made Marco’s skin crawl.

Ophelia bumped his elbow, so Marco refocused on beginning the ritual. He added the last ingredients to the fire burning in the ceremonial bowl, the flames leapt up turning dark orange and then fading into purple that nearly matched the Seal of Solomon. He wiped off the bare skin on Dean’s distended belly with antiseptic and injected several measures of lidocaine below the belly button. He nodded at Ophelia to begin.

"Insanidox Koth Munto!” Ophelia cried, raising the purple stone high over her head, swinging it back and forth, its eerie purple light increasing each time she repeated the phrase that would reopen the portal. "Insanidox Koth Munto!”

Marco joined her in chanting the words, holding the knife that he would have to cut into Dean’s belly in the next moment, his hands trembled, he’d never sliced into another person’s body, just lightly cut himself for ceremonies. Finally the words had been said enough times, the crack in the portal was beginning to open. He knew that it couldn’t be allowed to stay open for too long or to be opened up too widely, otherwise Yokoth and Glythur would be able to slip through. It only had to remain open long enough to let the offspring pass through into their world. The now-familiar sickly purple light from another universe shone down on the brothers’ naked skin below the portal.

Ophelia gestured wildly at Marco, pointing at Dean’s belly which was writhing, something pushing and distending the skin towards them like it was trying to birth itself. He raised the knife, took a deep breath to steady his hand and began the horizontal cut an inch below Dean’s belly button. Marco had learned how deep he had to cut to get through the layers based on YouTube home-emergency-cesarean videos he’d watched on their drive to the bunker. He sent up a little prayer to any deities besides Yokoth that were just happening to listen in to guide his hand and help him save Dean and their world.

Sam screamed and thrashed next to Dean, trying to reach him, to stop Marco’s knife, but he carried on cutting into Dean as planned. The moment he punctured through the final muscle layer, Yokoth’s offspring erupted through the wound, flowing up into the space over the brother’s bodies. It hovered there, wet and slimy like an oversized pupae sack. The thing rotated slowly, dripping blood and viscera down to land on the table and Dean’s skin with a disgusting splat. It seemed to pulse and Marco thought it might open, might birth the offspring into their world. Thankfully it began to rise a bit towards the crack in the portal opened above the table like it was being pulled in by tractor beam.

Sam screamed again, “No, not my children, no!” The pupae sack rose even higher towards the slit of light, finally passing through it to disappear from view. Sam’s eyes blazed with a final flare of that unearthly purple light and he collapsed against the table. His eyes closed again, but this time no longer glowing.

Dean’s belly was flat now, and so very bloody because the five inch long incision was gaping wide. Marco held a clean towel against the wound hoping this would all be over in time to stitch him up and save Dean’s life before he bled out.

Ophelia began chanting again, this time with the words that would close the portal for good. “Panto Koth Munto!” She held the Seal of Solomon raised high above her head, her body swaying with the power emanating from the wound in the world. The purple stone sparkled and shone, reflecting, then absorbing the light from Yokoth’s universe through the portal.

Marco joined in, raising his voice and shouting the words with her until the tear in their world silently zipped itself closed, the faint light of another universe faded to nothing.

“We’ve got to get him stitched up, there’s so much blood,” Marco said with urgency, “quick, Phee, c’mon, hand me the stuff.” He didn’t want to take any pressure off the wound in Dean’s belly and the towels had already soaked through.

Ophelia scuttled around the table and opened up the med kit they’d brought with them, she twisted the top off the bottle of disinfectant and poured it onto Dean’s skin as soon as Marco slowly moved the blood-soaked towel.

Dean’s eyes fluttered and he groaned, but he didn’t wake up. Ophelia tore open a suture kit and quickly stitched the layers of Dean’s body back together. Sam stirred next to him as Ophelia tied off the final stitch. She cleaned the area around the wound with gauze and disinfectant. Sam watched her as she smoothed a bandage over the neat stitches and secured it with medical tape.

“Thanks, Ophelia, looks like you’ve had some quality suturing practice there,” Sam said.

“I did a year of veterinary school, so yep, I’m the family expert,” Ophelia said.

“Who did the cutting?” Sam said looking between the two of them.

Marco raised his bloody right hand which still held the knife. “That’d be me, learned it all courtesy of Dr. Tube’s training videos.”

“As in Dr. You Tube?” Sam asked with a grin.

They laughed and Ophelia threw Sam one of the robes that were on the chair. Sam caught it and pulled it around himself, hopping off the table to tie it securely. He helped clean up most of the blood from the table and laid the other robe on top of Dean like a blanket for now.

“So I take it the whole thing worked?” Sam asked looking between them.

Ophelia collapsed into Marco’s side, he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her up. “It got a little weird there, but we think so, right, Phee?”

She looked up at him, exhausted lines around her eyes, she looked like she’d had a near-death experience. “Yokoth, she…uh, she tried to get into me, because Sam, you were resisting her so hard, she tried to jump into me.”

“What?” Marco said, holding her away from him so he could examine her. “Are you okay?”

“I am yeah, but only because Sam’s will was strong enough to hold her,” Ophelia said.

“He has some experience being a vessel for cosmic beings,” Dean said in a croaky voice.

“Dean, are you…?” Sam turned to him, hands fluttering around his face and shoulders.

“Wait, don’t sit up yet, you’ve got an incision,” Marco said.

Dean groaned, hand going to his belly. “That’s what it is, thought I could feel something tugging at my skin.”

“The local anesthetic Marco shot you with is going to wear off pretty soon, so take these. Hopefully they’ll kick in on time,” Ophelia said, handing Dean two big painkillers and a bottle of water.

“Wow, you guys really came prepared. You’re like a mobile supernatural surgery unit, pretty badass,” Sam said as he held Dean up a little so he could take the pills. He lowered Dean back to the table top, keeping his hand on Dean’s bare shoulder. Dean’s hand landed on his, warm and comforting. He still had the other one resting on his lower belly, but at least it was no longer moving and massaging its contents.

“The offspring are gone through the portal, and Yokoth’s hold on you should be gone with them,” Marco said.

“Them?” Dean asked in a weak voice, his eyes closed against the thought of more than one.

“There were…uh, several of them, yeah. But they weren’t separated yet, so I can’t give you an exact number,” Marco said.

Dean shuddered at the thought and muttered to himself. “Fucking litter of hellbeasts.”

“We’re sorry this even happened, we really should have checked you over before you left Capitulum Seven,” Ophelia said.

“It’s not your fault, none of us knew, and besides you came all this way and fixed it,” Sam said.

“We just wish our great-grandfather had never fooled with this bullshit in the first place,” Ophelia said, still holding The Seal of Solomon.

“You think the thing will still work to get us into the other _other_ world?” Dean asked.

  
Ophelia held it up so it could catch the light, it still seemed to glow from within. “No freaking idea, but it’s worth trying once you’re healed.”

“You think it’s really over this time?” Sam asked.

“Unless you guys traveling to the other _other_ world and somehow bring back a new crop of monsters, yeah I think so,” Marco said.

“Your great-grandfather would be really proud of you guys, cleaning up his mess,” Dean said.

“I…hope you’re right,” Ophelia said.

~()0O0()~

It was going to be a few hard weeks of recovery, as Dean had basically just had an impromptu cesarean section. Sam hovered and mother-henned him so much that he almost felt like screaming and running away. But he couldn’t, because the muscles in his body were still knitting themselves back together. They hung out together a lot, on Dean’s bed because it was the most comfortable.

“So what was it that you did to us exactly?” Dean asked, after finally pulling some information out of Sam about what had happened.

“Marco and Ophelia, they had a spell that I did to uh, soul-bind us temporarily, that way I could support you during the whole thing. Otherwise, Yokoth would have been able to take you away,” Sam said.

Sam didn’t say the ‘away from me’ part, but Dean heard it loud and clear. “It was only temporary?”

“I guess, well, actually they didn’t say how long exactly it would last. And I…uh, well I didn’t ask,” Sam admitted.

"Are we still—you know, soul-bond then?” Dean asked.

Sam closed his eyes and nodded slowly. Dean closed his too and tried to tell if anything felt different between them. He could feel Sam’s presence, hear him breathing, smell his sandalwood shampoo, but that was normal. But then, there was something new, like a string, no, a few strings that stretched between them across the small distance on his bed. He mentally tugged on one and could feel Sam’s reaction when he tugged back.

Dean opened his eyes and looked over at Sam, sitting there so grim and determined. “It’s okay, Sammy. You did what you had to do, thanks.”

Sam’s eyes opened, meeting his, wide and surprised to be thanked. “You’d have done the same, Dean.”

“Never thought in a million years I’d end up with this kind of scar,” Dean said, gesturing at his flat belly.

“You feel back to normal inside yet?” Sam asked. “Maybe we should go see Dr. Robert and get you checked out.”

“Man, how would we even begin to explain all this crazy crap?” Dean asked.

“That’s kinda his job, isn’t it?” Sam asked.

“I think it’s going to be okay, just feel like the furniture got moved around a little bit in there. You’re taking good enough care of me,” Dean said.

“You’ll tell me if anything seems off, right?” Sam said.

“Yeah, I will, no fooling around with possible extra monster babies, I swear,” Dean said with a laugh.

Dean started to enjoy it though, all the intense attention, having Sam’s hands on him constantly, tending to his healing wound was the best sort of pleasurable torture. As soon as he started to feel better he weaned himself off the painkillers. But then he began to feel aroused when Sam’s hands would skim the sensitive skin of his lower belly when he’d be checking his scar or helping him get dressed. He couldn’t seem to help himself this morning, and he was about to apologize for his arousal when Sam’s hand slipped a little lower, taking him out of his boxers.

Sam’s hand was soft and rough at the same time, and so strong as he slowly stroked Dean. His brother’s lips were red and puffy from biting them, probably to keep himself from asking if it was okay. Which would have been a dumb question, it was more than okay, it was exactly what Dean had always wanted but never thought he could have.

He couldn’t take watching Sam’s face, the worry on it, how unsure he seemed about what he was doing, so Dean reached up and pulled him down close enough to press their lips together. Sam’s hand stopped moving, but was still gripping him tightly as he kissed Dean back down into the bed. There wasn’t much more Dean could do, thrusting himself through Sam’s grip to keep the pleasure going, but that much movement hurt his still healing scar. Sam’s hand started moving again as he probably realized and Dean kissed him harder in thanks. A few more pulls and Dean was coming, hot and messy over Sam’s hand.

Sam pulled back from Dean’s lips and stared down at him in amazement and something that might have been lust. Dean realized that he had never seen this look on his brother’s face before.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice husky with the emotion he was feeling.

“You okay, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice as soft and tender as his eyes. His brother didn’t even sound like himself.

“More than, yeah,” Dean said, smiling up at him, sated and pleased with the turn they were making together.

Sam crawled up onto the bed and stretched out along Dean’s body. Dean could feel his hardness against his hip.

“Can I take care of care of you now?”

“Yeah…uh, but I don’t want to hurt you,” Sam said.

“Pretty sure a hand job isn’t going to strain me more than coming myself like a freight train from one did,” Dean said with a purr he felt deep in his bones. This was the only thing he wanted right now. “Want to see you come for me, Sammy, c’mon, get over here.”

Sam yanked down his sweatpants and boxers and slid up a little further along Dean’s body. He palmed himself with Dean’s release. Dean’s hand was in the perfect place and he began stroking Sam, an easy slow rhythm at first, just to get used to what Sam liked, to see how he responded. He tried out a few of his tried and true moves that he used on himself and Sam began to thrust along with him, his hand sped up and Sam matched him. Sam curved his face down to Dean’s and kissed him hard and insistent.

Dean murmured into Sam’s mouth, “C’mon, Sammy, give it to me.”

Sam groaned and thrust two more times, coming hard all over Dean’s hand. Dean smeared most of into Sam’s belly, but licked the rest from his hand. Sam groaned again and kissed him deeply, the taste of Sam’s come and Sam mixing into one of the best things Dean had ever tasted. Their frantic kiss finally slowed down, and Dean could feel his toes curling from the sheer pleasure of it, finally and after all this time. His belly filled up with something warm and new, not monster babies this time thank god, but instead a swooping joy at finally having this with Sam.

“Finally, huh?” Sam asked, lips moving against Dean’s.

“Yeah, finally, dude. It took you long enough,” Dean said.

“Took almost losing you to some mad gods from another universe,” Sam said.

“Well, I guess I owe them a fruit basket or something,” Dean said.

“Pretty sure FedEx doesn’t deliver to monster universes,” Sam said, tucking his arm under Dean’s head and bringing him into an embrace.

“Fine, I’ll send it to Ophelia and Marco instead,” Dean said, snuggling into his brother’s arms. And wasn’t that a damn fine thing to be doing—finally.

_The End_


End file.
